


The Detective By the Sea

by Molione



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Fun, M/M, Mermaids, Mermen, Poetry, mer!lock, poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-25
Updated: 2013-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-21 07:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molione/pseuds/Molione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John the fisherman meets Sherlock the merman out at sea. A poem. Mer!lock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Detective By the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not the best at poetry, but I hope y'all like some mer!lock! Comments and feedback is much appreciated! :3

The mist of the morning was only just burning up  
When the sailor stepped out of his home.  
He had a long day ahead, with the promise of a late sup.  
To his sister Harry, he called in a voice light as foam,

“Don’t wait up, I must journey far tonight!”  
To which she replied, with an irritable shout,  
“If you’re going that far, I’ll bid you good night!”  
And the sailor put on a fine pout.

But then he gave a small shrug (what else were sisters for?),  
And with his hands in his pockets, he strode off to the dock.  
For this sailor – John Watson was his name – sailing was never a chore or a bore.  
His fishing craft was the _Start of Adventure_ , and he fished at every o’clock.

Today he set out, his nets empty and waiting.  
The _Start of Adventure_ went quick, breaking each wave.  
With the wind at his back, he set to his baiting.  
The boat could sail herself, wasn’t wont to misbehave.

So he sat quite calmly.  
He hardly looked up when he heard a voice sing.  
The stories of singers and sirens were common, oft told in the army.  
But then he stopped, because this was the thing:  
The voice was not a woman, but a man.

John turned his young head,  
Looking for the origin of the sweet baritone.  
And there it was, straight up ahead!  
A dark haired merman, skin white as a bone.

He happened to turn ‘round  
And saw John’s eyes on him  
He looked at him as if there may have been something profound  
And then scoffed, the light of interest turning dim.

Yes, that arrogant young thing turned on his bum,  
And acted as though he hadn’t sung for the sailor, anyhow.  
Well John didn’t take that too well, that scum!  
The thought made him turn his vessel, as fast as it’d allow!

Once he was close, that sailor stepped up to that prissy fish  
(He wasn’t afraid of any mystical hocus-pocus!)  
And said with a flourish,  
“If you can’t finish what you start, then don’t set them into motion!”

That was when the merman turned  
No person had ever spoken to him in that manner before!  
At first it looked like he had been burned  
And then the interest in his eyes returned – John had made the perfect score.

This merman was Sherlock Holmes, you see  
And not just anyone would catch the attention  
Of the world’s only consulting mer-detective, indeed!  
If only John’d known, he might have understood the tension.

But as it was, the sailor’s face turned a reddish hue  
And he said, “Don’t look at me like that!”  
As if he could make him rue  
The moment he’d tricked John Watson with his song, that brat!

“Which war was it?”  
The merman’s query was met with some confusion.  
“I beg your pardon, but I don’t appreciate the wit.”  
He replied, hoping there was some delusion.

“You fought in a war, it’s obvious.”  
“Obvious? How could you possibly --?”  
“The way you walk, you don’t need to look at your bait, the way you stand, is that enough?”  
And John Watson was amazed, for Sherlock Holmes had guessed impossibly.

But he was right, and that impressed John, who had never been understood.  
“Yes. I’m John Watson.” He made his introduction plain.  
“Sherlock Holmes,” replied the merman, a bit quicker than he should.  
The pleasantries were done, and the conversation took on a strain.

After the pause, John coughed and said,  
“I’d best get on. The fish won’t catch themselves, you know.”  
Sherlock did not want him to leave, and leapt over his head  
And splashed into the water on the other side, diving below.

John looked over the edge, wondering if he was so easily gone  
Before Sherlock resurfaced with a mighty roar, fish flying into the boat from behind.  
The sailor leapt and spread his nets, and fish rained – bass and tuna and prawn!  
It wasn’t long before there was more than he’d ever seen, even with kind wind.

To the merman, he gave an incredulous look and shortly after, a smile.  
“That was brilliant.”  
His face lit up. “Really? That’s not what most people think, not by a mile.”  
“Bollocks to what they think, that was ingenious.”

They laughed with each other for a few moments.  
John stopped first. “I’d better get home and unload my catch.”  
“But you will come back?” Sherlock swam a little closer, with unclear emotions.  
John’s face was passive, and then he shrugged. “I can come back for another batch.”

He turned his _Start of Adventure_ and pointed the stern  
Away from the subtle disappointment of the merman  
Facing the way he’d come, to make his return.   
And out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of tail, working like a fan.

His sails unfurled, and toward home he went.  
He only looked back once, just one time!  
And seated on the rock was Sherlock, hell-bent  
That he would see his sailor man again, sublime.


End file.
